I return to the empty rehearsal studio for closure. I find letting go waiting instead.

I find you waiting inside the empty rehearsal studio, exactly where memory puts you.

I feel resin and sweat in the air as you turn toward me.

I touch a satin ribbon after your fingers leave it.

I hear my own pulse insist that I need to close the door without hating you.

I step closer when the music starts with the dance you promised me.

I ask whether you expected to see me tonight.

I feel your breath change beside the mirrored corridor.

I feel the old shape of your hand around my cold fingers.

I learn again that touch can outlive permission.

I ask for the truth of letting go without decoration.

I recognize the careful voice you use before hurting me.

I move a satin ribbon between our hands like a boundary.

I hear every reason and search for one choice.

I realize that you ask me to keep one key.

I let the truth land without bargaining.

I carry a satin ribbon toward the mirrored corridor without looking back.

I feel your hand close gently around my sleeve.

I turn close enough to feel your breath.

I watch you choose whether to close the remaining distance.

I reach for you inside the empty rehearsal studio, but you ask me to keep one key.